Caring Means Scaring Part 1

So anyways, late last night while I was talking to a friend online about the joys of fatherhood, I was shocked by the sound of my nearly four year old offspring screaming from within the confines of her room. Screaming about ghosts, as I've already made mention of before, sometimes my daughter's comments about such oddities genuinely freaks me out. So, like the proper parental patriarch that I am, I politely excused myself and went in to check on her. Once inside the room, I noticed no chill in the air (a telltale sign of a ghost sighting). And so, I decided to have a little fun.

"Oh, I've seen her too, Liesi.", I lied to my daughter most excellently. "Her name was Rose. She was a little girl who cried because she never fell asleep. Now, she haunts the rooms of other little girls who also refuse to fall asleep. You'll probably be fine if you just shut your eyes, remain very quiet and fall asleep." She looked up at me with legit terror in her eyes as she asked me, "But, what if I CAN'T fall asleep??" I leaned in very close, kissed her on the forehead and whispered to her, "Well, let's not risk that, huh kid?" And I left the room. Amazingly, the screams of terror had been replaced with quiet sobbing. And within minutes, when I went back to check, she was sound asleep, hiding under her blanket.

Now, to the uninitiated and the childless, this may sound cruel and petty. And I'll be the first to admit, before I ever had a kid, I was right at the front of the line of the folks who made solemn vows to never lie to their children. And once that little bundle of joy was able to walk, able to think for herself and get into no small amount of chicanery, monkeyshines and hi-jinx, I immediately began spinning my own rich tapestry of lies in order to frighten my child.

Why? Well, maybe it's just the sheer joy of lying to a child, a doe eyed, apple cheeked little sprite who'll believe anything you tell them. Or, maybe... just maybe, it's because not long ago, I realized a simple and immutable truth; Monsters, ghosts, bogeymen and demons... Or rather the creation of said entities and the retelling of their tales to children... Keep kids well-behaved, respectable and most importantly, alive. Over the next few days, just for fun, let's go through my oh so fun list of all time parental creations;

The Monster Under The Bed:

Let's face it, kids have BOUNDLESS energy. Hell, if I could, I would sacrifice my first 9 years of hopping, jumping, skipping, tree climbing, running and playing in the mud for a third of the energy that I had as a kid. For a disastrous few weeks earlier this year, my daughter was allowed to sleep in her toddler bed, a gift from an aunt. After working full time, I'd come home, play with Liesi till about eight o' clock, deposit her in her bed, sing her a few Snow Patrol songs(The kid has NO taste in music), get her a glass of water and head to bed myself. In the morning, I'd wake up to find my second floor hallway covered with a bizarre series of Crayola pictographs that would make the ancient Mayans throw up their hands in frustration.

I tried EVERYTHING to curb this midnight graffiti. I tried putting her to bed later, bringing her to the park to make her run off all of her excess energy, cutting sugar out of her diet. Nothing. Every night, I'd go to bed and wake up with a brand new mural on the wall. My perenial favorite was one that she explained featured me and her mother running from a shark. Yes... Let it sink in... Running... From a sea creature. The crude depiction of an oak tree next to Laura left me wondering where such a furious chase would take place, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to end up in the attic again (See my March 20th Blog if you don't get that reference). I thought all hope was lost and that I'd be forced to put Liesi back in the crib during the night. Then inspiration came from an odd source. One day, I was sitting and reading a collection of quite possibly THE greatest comic strip known to man, when my daughter came up and stared transfixed at the cover.



I looked down from reading about Spaceman Spiff and noticed my daughter's unusual change in her demeanor. "Hey, Liesi. What's going on?", I asked cordially. "What's THAT book?",she inquired, pointing to the lovingly worn cover. I explained to her that it was a paperback trade copendium of one of the most subversively hilarious comic strips to ever grace the Sunday funnies. Ok, maybe I didn't use those words exactly. Still her eyes remained locked on the drooling creature under the bed. Naturally, the next question she asked in a hushed voice was, "Is that a monster?" I informed her that it was. Then, jackpot. "Is there a monster under MY bed?" Suddenly, a light buld went off in my head.

"Well, not right now, obviously. I mean, you've been getting up every night and drawing on the walls... Hiding your crayons where daddy can't find them... But, I'd say that probably, in the next few days that sort of attention will draw some kind of monster to your room." I went on to explain to her that just to be safe, she shouldn't get out of bed anymore. "The monsters", I continued to BS, "Can't climb up onto your bed. It's just too high for them. No, they just wait there... In the dark for an ankle or a toe to dangle over the edge... And then?? WHAM!!! They've got ya!" Thank goodness that Laura was at work at the time, because the scream that my daughter let rip at that point would have caused her mother to immediately call me out on my bullshit.

I know that right now, you're probably all thinking that I'm some kind of dick for frightening my daughter like that. And admittedly, maybe I am. But, here's what I know. Since that day, Liesi has stayed in her bed every night until morning and there are no new exhibits on the art gallery that is my second floor hallway. Also, the bottles of chemicals, the bleach and the various outlets that are just the right size for tiny little fingers have been untouched. My daughter is alive and out of trouble. And I have only deception to thank for it.

TBC....